A/N: I didn't get many reviews last time, and more than anything I'm just worried you guys are getting bored? Please let me know what you think, if only so I'm not sitting here worried that nobody's interested any more. I hope you like this one.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise, and anything pop-culture mentioned isn't mine.
So we went on our way
Too in love to think straight
All alone or so it seemed.
But there were strangers watching
And whispers turned to talking
And talking turned to screams.
Didn't they tell us don't rush into things?
Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?
Didn't you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?
Didn't it all seem new and exciting?
I felt your arms twisting around me
It's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind.
Wonderland – Taylor Swift
A shrill ringing sound interrupted my slumber, and I opened my eyes irritatedly, unable to help the small growl that escaped my lips as I peered at the buzzing cell phone, the screen lighting up the otherwise dark room.
Stiles groaned from beside me, arm tightening around my middle as he burrowed his head deeper into my neck. "Ignore it," he murmured sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Only answer if they ring twice."
"Why twice?" I questioned curiously, turning over to wrap myself further into him, inhaling his intoxicating scent.
"If it's important they'll always try twice."
A moment later the phone rang out, the room once again thrown into blackness as it stopped glowing.
"See?" he muttered into my skin, and if he wasn't so tired I knew he'd sound smug.
Relaxing, I melted back into the pillows, running my fingers through his hair and allowing my eyes to drift shut again.
Then the familiar vexatious tune of my ringtone filled the room, the phone on the other side of the bed lighting up brightly. Stiles bolted up, trapped by his own rule, smothering a yawn as he scrambled over top of me to answer the phone, not apparently stopping to consider that it was mine.
"What?" he barked into the cell, clearly wanting nothing more than to get back to bed, which I couldn't say I didn't agree with.
I was sleepy, but still alert enough to catch the words spoken on the other end of the line. It was Scott, mumbling something in quick, frantic tones, instantly catching my attention. "We're at the school," he finally told Stiles, not sounding the least bit surprised that he'd been the one to answer my phone. "Hurry."
As soon as he hung up, Stiles dove over to his closet, tugging a hoodie off a hanger and slipping his arms into the sleeves. He glanced over at me, noticing that I had yet to move. "As much as I would love to see you half-naked for the rest of the evening, I have a feeling Scott and the girls will feel differently." I didn't move, too reluctant to leave the comfort of his soft sheets. "Pants; now," he prompted me with an eye roll, scooping my discarded jeans from the floor and hurling them in my direction.
I complied with a sigh, doing it quickly before reaching over and slipping on my leather jacket over the old shirt of Stiles' that I was wearing. "So what's this about?" I asked conversationally as he hopped on one leg, haphazardly tying his shoe.
"I guess we'll find out when we get there," he responded curtly, but I knew it was more out of anxiety than anything else. I followed him down the stairs, darting out the door and hopping in the Jeep before he was fully out of the house. At an irritatingly human pace, he made his way to the driver's side, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine.
The drive to the school was short and familiar, only the sound of some shitty talkback radio filling the cab until Stiles got too annoyed and turned it off.
"Wait," I said as we pulled up, hand snapping out to wrap around Stiles' forearm, stopping him from moving. I tilted my head slightly further out the open window, sniffing delicately and grimacing at the flare of hunger that surged through me.
"What is it?" he asked worriedly, staring over at me through the dark.
I glanced back at him, feeling my eyes flash dark red. "Blood."
"Where is she?" was the first thing my boyfriend said as he leapt from the vehicle, eyes sweeping the parking lot for a sign for the suspiciously supernatural girl, my words having shaken him.
"Over here," Scott said, gesturing to the right, where Allison and Lydia stepped from the shadows. I struggled for a moment with my instinct to feel jealous; Stiles was awfully concerned about Lydia. Reprimanding myself silently, I scowled, of course he was worried. They were friends, I would feel the same about Scott or Allison.
"Lydia?" Stiles asked, taking a step forwards but otherwise not reacting.
"Same thing; exact same thing as the pool," the redhead told us, worrying her bottom lip and twisting her hands together in front of her stomach anxiously. "I got into the car, heading somewhere totally different, and then I ended up here. You told me to call you if there was a dead body."
"You found a dead body?!"
"Not yet."
I frowned confusedly, eyeing the girl with narrowed eyes. "Not yet? What do you mean, not yet?" Stiles demanded, but my attention was on the aroma floating on the breeze. Instantly I began to scan the horizon, looking for the source of the mouthwatering scent. "Lydia, you're supposed to call us after you find the dead body."
My focus had shifted. I could still hear them in the background, but I was being dragged towards the cause for the smell. I seemed to be tugged towards it, probably because I hadn't fed in far too long. I would need to do it soon, lest something unforgivable happened. "Oh no, I'm not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on."
"How are we supposed to find the dead body? You're always the one finding the dead body."
"Guys!" Scott interrupted them, and I looked over at him from where I now stood beside the school sign, mere feet away from the source of the intoxicating smell of blood. "Juliet found the dead body."
For some reason the scent was affecting me much more than it should have been. I bit the inside of my cheek to try and distract myself. "Jules?" Stiles asked tentatively, and I could hear his footfalls crunching on the gravel as he approached. My boyfriend's heart stuttered as he saw the identity of the corpse. "Oh, my God," he mumbled, sounding like he was going to be sick.
I took in the deputy uniform the dead woman was wearing and realised that Stiles must have known this woman. Judging by the distraught expression pasted across his face, I was correct.
Taking charge and stepping forwards, I haphazardly threw my cell phone in Scott's direction. "Call 911," I instructed him, moving closer to my human, whose eyes had gone glassy.
Scott did as he was told, and Allison and Lydia were mumbling to each other a few feet away. Gently throwing an arm around Stiles' shoulders, I herded him away from the small group, off to the side where only Scott would be able to hear, and only if he wanted to.
"She worked with your dad?" I asked softly, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah," he muttered, blinking rapidly as he processed everything. "She used to help me with my homework while I was waiting for my dad to get off work," he admitted, sounding pained.
Not exactly known for my comforting skills, I struggled for a way to help him. "If it makes you feel any better, she didn't suffer," I told him quietly, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "Those wounds were too fatal, she'd have been dead in seconds."
He turned a sickly shade of green. "I love you for trying to help," he choked roughly, tone making it clear that I wasn't helping. I let go of him, feeling like a pathetic excuse for a girlfriend.
"Juliet!" I spun around at the sound of my name, blinking at Scott with alarm. "Do you smell that?" he asked, head titled up to the moonlight as he sniffed the air.
I copied the action, taking in the odd scent. "You stay," I told him, glancing at the girls pointedly as he looked like he was about to protest. He sighed, frowning but nodding his head. I turned back to Stiles. "I've got to follow this lead," I told him regretfully.
He nodded, understanding as always. "I'll see you later," he promised, and I pecked him chastely on the cheek before disappearing from the parking lot, following what remained of the trail left by the Darach.
"We have a plan."
I looked up from the ground where I was stepping on ants, amusing myself as best I could while I puffed absentmindedly on a cigarette. "Like the time you double crossed us without actually double-crossing us?" I asked flatly, though the words held no malice. I was over that particular indiscretion; but it was nice having something to hang over the teen wolf's head on occasion.
"It worked, didn't it?" he responded, a slight smile on his lips.
I rolled my eyes. "Fair enough," I allowed, flicking the ash from the tip of my stick and peering at him through the dark tint of my sunglasses. "Pray tell," I continued, cocking my head and licking my red painted lips. "What's Scott McCall's next brilliant plan?"
"We've got Lydia distracting Aiden, and Stiles and I are going to talk to Ethan," he told me quickly, glancing over his shoulder as though checking we were alone.
My eyes swept the area, satisfied when I knew it was void of prying ears. "And you want me to...what?" I asked curiously, taking another drag of smoke and raising an eyebrow.
"Help us talk to Ethan," he said, definitely not begging.
"Because I'm so good at passive confrontation," I murmured sardonically, and Scott sighed, though didn't deflate.
"I'd just..." he began, seeming to have trouble getting the words out. He sighed, running a finger across his eyebrow. "I'd feel better if I had some backup."
That was all I needed to hear. "You got it," I told him with a nod, sucking in one final lungful of chemicals before dropping the cigarette to the cement and crushing it under my boot. I slid my sunglasses off, hooking them at my neckline.
"Just like that?" he asked, sounding wary.
"Just like that," I echoed, and he seemed surprised yet content with my answer.
I followed him through the school, the hallways empty as most students were in their classes. We met Stiles by the locker rooms and I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek but otherwise kept public displays of affection to a minimum.
Stiles, ever the mastermind of our eclectic pack, knew that Ethan had a free period right then, and it wasn't hard at all to determine he'd be in the library, where it would be quiet and he could relax without his brother by his side.
"I think Jules should go in," Stiles chimed under his breath as we approached the library doors.
"Are you sure?" Scott asked just as quietly, sounding doubtful. "We need to be delicate about this."
"Are you saying I'm not delicate?" I asked sharply, and Scott shifted uncomfortably. I stopped walking, bringing both boys to a halt. "Just go wait on the east stairwell," I instructed them lazily, running a hand through my loose, dark hair. "I'll collect the pup and bring him to you on a silver platter."
"That nerve is exactly the type of attitude that'll get you killed," Scott said softly, sounding nothing but concerned.
"I think we could all use a little nerve right about now," Stiles interjected, and I could tell the wolf knew he had a point. I smiled happily at my boyfriend, winking at him playfully before gently shoving them in the direction of the stairs.
"Go," I ordered, and they did as they were told.
I considered painting on lipstick and unbuttoning my shirt, but quickly remembered this particular alpha batted for the other team. It'd been a long time since I'd had to seduce someone intellectually, instead of physically; I always did enjoy a good challenge.
"Spoiler alert: Jesus dies."
Ethan looked up from the bible he was skimming, an irritated look on his severe features.
"Why's a damned-to-hell wolf such as yourself reading the good book anyhow?" I continued casually, dropping into the seat opposite him and immediately kicking my feet up on the desk and peering at him steadily.
"English assignment," he bit out, sounding less than thrilled to be conversing with me.
I clicked my tongue, not even bothering to pretend I cared. "We want to talk."
He frowned, "Deucalion is-"
"Not who I'm referring to."
He paused, surprise showing on his features before he forced calmness to overtake them. "Me?" he asked, though he already knew. "Why?"
"I guess you'll find out when you follow me," I whispered back with a smirk.
He hesitated. "Is this a trap?" he asked, clearly not one to beat around the bush.
"I swear on my unbeating heart that this is in no way a trap." He didn't look impressed, but also didn't look like he thought I was lying, so I decided to count that one as a win.
The walk to the east stairwell was done in complete and only slightly awkward silence. My footfalls we silent on the ground, Ethan's making only minor thuds. The boys turned to look at us as we approached, and I slipped up the stairs, moving to Stiles' side instantly, hoping I didn't look protective as I stood just slightly in front of him.
"What's this about?" Ethan asked lowly. "Why are you even talking to me? I helped kill your friend, how do you know I won't kill another one?"
I didn't miss the way his gaze slid to Stiles, and I was a millisecond from exploding when Stiles spoke up. "Is he looking at me?" he asked offhandedly, peeking over at Scott. "Are you threatening me?" Sometimes I forgot that Stiles didn't always need protecting. "You know what I'm going to do?" he began darkly, gently but firmly pushing me aside as he stepped up to the much larger wolf. "I'm going to break off an extra large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe and shove it up your freaking-"
"Whoa, whoa," Scott tried to defuse the tension my boyfriend was creating. "Stiles, okay. We get it."
The lanky boy stepped back, giving what he probably thought was an intimidating nod in Ethan's direction. As soon as he was within reach I curled myself around his arm, pressing my face into his neck. "I have never been more attracted to you," I whispered to him with total honesty, a warm, thick feeling filling my gut.
I didn't bother glancing at the alpha wolf, but I could feel the disgust radiate from his person. "Ignore them," Scott said quickly as Stiles glanced down at me with surprised eyes. "We're talking to you, because I know that you didn't want to kill Boyd," the beta continued, and I finally tore my eyes from my human's to peer over at the lonesome twin, arms still looped through Stiles', a subtle warning to the beast. "I think that if something like that happened now, you wouldn't do it again."
"You don't know what we owe them," Ethan responded tightly. "Especially Deucalion. We weren't like Kali and Ennis when we met him. We weren't alphas."
"What were you?"
"Omegas."
I let out a breath, clicking my tongue in mock sympathy. "You were their bitches," I sang impishly, and Scott sent me an irritated look, leaving me feeling oddly scolded.
"In actual wolf packs, omegas are the scapegoat; the last to eat, the one who has to take abuse from the rest of the pack."
"So you and your brother were the bitches of the pack," Stiles interrupted, and I smirked happily. Damn, was he going to be rewarded for his attitude later tonight.
"Something like that," Ethan allowed begrudgingly, looking like he'd love nothing more than to hit my face with his fist.
"What happened?" Scott asked before things could escalate.
"They were killers. I mean, people talk about us as monsters; well they were the ones who gave us the reputation. Our alpha was the worst of them."
"Why didn't you guys just fight back?" Stiles asked, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked riling the werewolf up, and I couldn't say I blamed him. "Form Voltron wolf, y'know? Kick everyone's asses?"
"We couldn't, we didn't know how to control it back then."
"Deucalion taught you," Scott said in realisation.
"And then we fought. We took down the whole pack; one by one. By the time we got to our alpha, he was begging for his life."
I could hear the barely restrained exhilaration in Ethan's voice. It was a tone I was familiar with, having heard it in my own voice too many times to count. My stomach swooped and my teeth ground together at the tingling sensation I felt in my gums as my fangs begged to be allowed to descend. I silently berated myself for feeling that way. My days of chaos and murder were long behind me.
I hoped.
"And we tore him apart," Ethan finished with a sneer. "Literally."
"What about your emissary?" The alpha wolf shook his head, eyes lowered to the floor in something akin to shame. "They're all dead? Kali and Ennis' too?"
"All of them except for Deucalion's."
I frowned, and Stiles bristled beside me. "You mean Morrell?"
He was about to answer, but he cut himself off with a hiss of pain, hand darting to his chest.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Scott asked worriedly.
"Not me," Ethan responded with wide eyes.
Instinctively I sniffed, and though I could tell this wolf wasn't wounded, I could tell that a wolf was wounded somewhere in the school. "Blood," I murmured to the boys, eyes unfocused as I attempted to listen for whatever was causing the blood.
"My brother," Ethan said suddenly, and before I knew what was happening he'd shot off down the hall, heart slamming fearfully in his chest. Letting go of Stiles, I took off after him, catching up with relative ease but then letting him lead the way to the locker room.
The door banged open as he tore his way through, heading directly for his twin. I took in the scene before me. Aiden was laying into Cora, who was on the ground, bleeding heavily. With an irritated sigh I dashed across the wet floor, one hand wrapping around the injured alpha's neck and using my impossibly fast momentum to take his feet out from under him and slam his head and back into the tiles, which cracked loudly under the assault.
I'd managed to momentarily incapacitate him (though probably only because I had the element of surprise; on the scale of vampire to werewolf strength, I was considered to be somewhere at the bottom). Thankfully I didn't have to pull any more miracles out of my ass, because Scott and Aiden were there, leaning over the wolf, holding him to the shattered tiles.
"You can't do this!" Ethan yelled at his brother.
"She came at me!" Aiden responded furiously.
"It doesn't matter! Kali gave Derek until the next full moon, you can't touch him or her!"
The angry brother didn't look too pleased with this, but at least he didn't argue, merely baring his teeth at me for a flash before ignoring Scott's offered and and climbing to his feet himself, storming from the room.
I sighed, already exhausted as I rubbed my fingers across my brow.
"Hey guys, I think she's pretty hurt," my boyfriend's voice spoke up, and I glanced down at the people on the floor, Stiles leaned over Cora, eyes flickering over her in concern.
I sank to my knees, grimacing as I placed a hand to the dazed girl's forehead. "Is there anything you can do?" Scott questioned from above me, and I didn't even spare a moment to send him the irritated look I was feeling in my gut.
"Sure, let me just call the werewolf EMTs," I murmured back sardonically, and all I received in response was silence. I used my thumb to hold her right eyelid open widely, watching the way the pupil reacted to the light overhead. "She's got a concussion," I informed them dryly. "But that shouldn't be a problem, just give her a few minutes to heal, and then a few hours on top of that, and she'll be right as rain, I'm sure."
She did take a while to come round, groaning as she accepted Scott's hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She winced as the lights hurt her no doubt sensitive eyes, and she moved over to the sinks without a word, peering at herself in the mirror, tentatively prodding the bleeding wound at her hairline.
"You okay?" Stiles asked with a grimace.
"She doesn't look okay," Lydia replied out of the corner of her mouth.
"I'll heal," Cora interjected with a scowl, and I could literally hear her teeth grind together in either annoyance or anger. She took a step back, though she instantly wavered, losing balance for a moment as she began to fall. Stiles instantly lunged forwards, hand grasping her elbow to keep her steady. "I said, I'm fine," she bit out, clearly less than pleased by his concern. I didn't like the attitude – especially not directed at my human – but I was willing to let it slide seeing as the girl did have a pretty severe concussion.
"Do you realise how suicidally crazy that was?" Stiles asked her with a sour face, trying to comprehend her actions. "What were you thinking, going after them?"
"I did it for Boyd," she snapped furiously, eyes watering, though I knew she'd deny it. "None of you were doing anything."
"We're trying," Scott swore sincerely.
"And you're failing." I narrowed my eyes at her, but Stiles knew my thoughts before I'd even thought them, and his hand slipped into my own, only to hold me back rather than offer any comfort. "You're just a bunch of stupid teenagers," she continued darkly. "Running around, thinking that you can stop people from getting killed, but all you do is show up late. All you really do, is find the bodies." She turned to leave but paused, eyes sliding to meet mine. "Or make the bodies."
With that she left, leaving the others shocked and me irrationally furious. It wasn't like anything she was saying wasn't true.
"She's definitely a Hale," Stiles mumbled with a huff. He glanced over at me, stepping forwards and dragging me with him. "We'll make sure she gets home," he told them, and though I wanted to argue, I knew I had to pick my battles, and this wasn't one of them. "Cora!" Stiles called out, hurrying after her as she wandered unsteadily down the hallway.
"What?" she grumbled, sounding irritated as hell.
"Come on," he said, reluctantly letting go of my hand to press his to her back, guiding her down the hall. "We're not letting you walk home alone after what just happened."
Cora snorted, but the sound was weak. "Like she cares," she spat like the pronoun referring to me made her sick.
"Maybe not," Stiles allowed, knowing better than to spin some bullshit lie. "But I do, and your brother does."
She looked like she wanted to argue, but ultimately decided against it, muttering curses under her breath as she continued to soldier on, staggering through the hall towards the front entrance. She sucked in a sharp breath every few minutes, holding a hand to her head before grunting in a very Derek-like fashion and pretending nothing had happened as she continued forwards.
"You know, maybe you should go see Deaton," Stiles suggested as we stepped out into the fresh air, the doors swinging closed behind us with a loud creak. "Get that head wound looked at."
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine?" she snarled weakly, following Stiles to where his Jeep sat in a spot only a couple hundred feet from the doors.
"He'd be more inclined to believe you if you didn't have blood running down your face," I mumbled as I stepped around her, ensuring that I was the first one at the front seat, forcing the injured wolf into the back. She shot me a scowl – more of a bitter twist of the mouth than anything – and slid into the back.
I settled in to the passenger seat, kicking my legs up onto the dash like I had a million times before. Stiles shot me a halfhearted glare that I was all too used to, and started the car, pulling out onto the main road.
My boyfriend began to drum his fingers on the steering wheel, obviously feeling the tension in the small, enclosed space of his car. "Who's up for some music?" he asked over enthusiastically, reaching out and hitting the button, some kind of unpleasant techno sounds filling the Jeep.
Cora grunted from behind us, leaning over the seat and jabbing the button with unnecessary force. "No," she barked, sitting back and holding her head once more.
"Aw, come on!" Stiles mumbled, switching lanes and taking a second to pout over his shoulder. "Who doesn't like Gorillaz?"
"What the fuck is a Gorillaz?" she sneered with disgust, like even though she had no idea what it was she already hated it.
"Is it seriously some kind of ingrained trait of the supernatural that you all have no appreciation for pop culture?" he complained, though it was mostly in jest.
Both of us were saved from replying when his phone rang, and he reached out and tapped the button, answering the call.
"Hey Allison, what's up?" he said loudly, glancing down at her name before focusing on the road.
"We found something," she said instantly. "You know how my dad was marking all the abduction and sacrifice sites?"
"Yeah..." he prompted.
"Well we found something else written underneath the map. He has each sacrifice group labelled in a five fold knot."
I winced, that never meant anything good. "What are they?" I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
"Healers, guardians, virgins, warriors, and philosophers."
"Philosophers?" Stiles asked, sounding bemused.
"And guardians, which means after last night has to mean something like...law enforcement?" Allison responded, and I nodded absently, mind a million miles ahead of the conversation. "Stiles, you have to tell your dad. Tell him whatever you need but you have to get him to believe. Tell your dad, warn him."
"Okay," he said, heart speeding up in his chest. "I know."
With a sigh he hung up, frowning out at the road and the rapidly setting sun.
"What are you gonna do?" Cora asked curiously from the backseat.
Stiles paused, "I'm going to tell him the truth." He peeked over at me, meeting my eyes with something like worry or fear in his own gaze. "And I'm gonna need your help," he told me, and I immediately nodded, reaching over to where his hand sat on the gearshift, wrapping my fingers around his. He glanced in the mirror, addressing Cora. "Both of you."
He rang his dad, telling him he urgently needed to speak with him and begging the sheriff to meet him at home. John sounded reluctant, busy with work, but the critical tone in his son's voice convinced him to take a late lunch and hurry home.
He wasn't expecting me, let alone Cora Hale to be waiting along with Stiles in his room. "Stiles?" John asked warily, arms crossed over his chest. "What's going on?"
Cora was sitting on the bed, still slightly unsteady on her feet. I perched myself on the desk, kicking my legs under me and watching as my human paced anxiously. "Well, you see-" he began, only to cut himself off and resume pacing. "The thing is-no," he paused again, grimacing and chewing on his knuckles as he struggled to find the words. "Yes, okay...no-"
"Stiles," John said slowly, heart beginning to speed up in his chest. His eyes flickered from his son to me warily. "Is Jules pregnant?" Stiles nearly had a heart attack, breath catching in his throat as he choked on his own spit and coughed madly. The sheriff turned to me, desperate for an answer. "You're not pregnant, are you?"
I smirked, rolling my eyes at my boyfriend's reaction. "I assure you, John, I'm not pregnant," I assured him calmly. I felt my amusement waver for a moment. Shortly John would know the truth, would he still consider me a good person to be with his son, once he knew what I'd done in my past; what I'd been in my past; what I was now?
"Well then, what, Stiles?!" the sheriff prompted firmly, narrowing his eyes at his son once the relief had faded from his face.
"Dad, I'm just trying to figure out how to start, here," he sighed, gesturing wildly as his heartbeat grew faster and faster in his chest.
"I don't have this kind of time," John told his son seriously.
"For the last year, you had all these cases that you couldn't figure out, right?" he began, words spilling from his mouth quickly now that he'd begun. "I mean, all the murders involving Kate Argent; Matt killing all the people who had drowned him, and all these murders right now...it's like you've been playing a losing game."
"Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review from my own son."
The kid looked distraught for a moment before something in the corner caught his eyes. He lunged for it, reappearing with a chess set in his hands. Gently he nudged me off the desk, one hand on my hip. I did as directed, landing firmly on my feet and staying close to Stiles' side, letting him know I was there, supporting him, no matter what.
"That's just it, dad. The reason you're losing the game is because you've never been able to see the whole board," he told his father, laying the board out on the desk I'd just vacated. "I need to show you the whole board."
